


White Lies

by Souja



Series: Crossposts [3]
Category: BIRDMEN - 田辺イエロウ | Tanabe Yellow
Genre: Character-centric, Day 1, Gen, Hey, Introspection, Thought Barf, birdmenweek2k17, crossposted, guys this is hella pretentious im not gonna lie to you, hey guys, i love rei, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-05-16 18:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14816597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Souja/pseuds/Souja
Summary: For Birdenweek2k17!Rei is Bird White. A look at what that means.





	White Lies

**.White Lies.**

\--

_...he had a strong dislike for superficial things like lies and outward appearances..._

\--

All around him the world exploded in white.

It burst like firecrackers and whispered lullabies of half-truths, and to its art he was the audience. Because this was the way that his Ability manifested: in tiny darts of white hovering just beneath the skin.

The darts wove exquisite tapestries of untruths from the voices that chattered around him, their meanings lost in an echo chamber of over-excited words. Tones tempered high, sunset smiles that lingered a little too long. Rei knew them with the same familiarity that deciphered twitching fingers, clenched jaws. The subtle shift of gazes and self-conscious repositioning as details fuzzied in favour of fantasy. Everyone’s a hero, after all, even if only in their own mind. 

He loved their absence on the bodies of his friends. The dark and honest soot that covered them in place of speckles of little white nebula. The expanses of iridescent truth that breathed from them. Comfort reigned in the slick shimmer, the joyful glow, the absence of glaring deceit.

It was so unlike his own spots. White stained his hands, his feet. His lips were things of ivory, like eggshell covers hiding scars.

Sometimes, when he’d newly awakened, he’d speak and suddenly a trail of snow would appear on his fingertips. It used to scare him, the way he glowed with little white lies. Now he expected it. He was wise to himself.

His breath dusted against his palm, sweeping away the specks of ebony pigment that dwelled there. It fled as though shooed away by his untruth. So he curled his fingers to his palm and listened to the pulse of Karasuma’s thoughts, Kamoda’s booming hum. The patient timber of Takayama listening. 

He is bird white, after all, the bird of white lies. 

 

.

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from tumblr


End file.
